


i was like the tide, and you were the moon

by munzie (enjolrasenthusiast)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, akaashi is a painter, bokuto is a travel blogger, id call it a coffee shop au but it isnt really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasenthusiast/pseuds/munzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one is the same as all the rest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>To Keiji, always</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the inevitable pull of the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> im surprised that im getting on another fic so soon after finishing my last one (found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3318344)), but hey, its all for the better right? anyway, ive got a pretty complex storyline worked out for this one and im not sure exactly how long it'll be, but i should be updating regularly!
> 
> hope you enjoy this one! i know i will c:

_April._

They say the moon controls the tides. Something about the gravitational pull, or the way the Earth is rotated in position to the moon, or the way they hang in orbit, tugs at the ocean until it creeps up on the sandy shores. And then, when it has exhausted its hold on the foam-capped waves, it lets them sink back into the sea in favor of calmer waters. They say the sea loves the moon, that it cannot bear to be apart from it, so it pulls away from the ever-turning world to be just that fraction closer, and only when it can no longer see the moon’s white glow does it fall back, defeated.

Bokuto wasn’t sure who “they” were, but he figured that they were probably right.

The ocean was on his right as he drove, the highway nearly empty aside from the occasional car he came across, usually going too slow for his liking, trying to get a picture of the waves as they passed. He sped past, thankful for the second lane. In any other situation he might have stopped to take a picture, might have pulled his car over and dug his camera out of the pile of clothes in his trunk, might have written out a few heartfelt paragraphs about how the seaside drive made him feel free, but the sun was going down and the sky was darkening by the minute.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he felt like he had to get there before nightfall.

A ring startled him, and he slowed down to a comfortable speed before digging his phone out of the bag beside him.

“Oi, Tetsu.”

“Where you at, Kou? Found a place yet?”

“Nah, just kind of driving. Probably gonna pull into the next place I find.”

“You’re still by the ocean, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Find me a girlfriend there, yeah? Some beach babe, that’d be-” He was cut off by a voice in the background, followed by a grunt and an amused, “Ow, Kei- Stop-” Bokuto laughed, picturing the scene back at Kuroo’s apartment. A vague feeling of homesickness wormed its way into his chest, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey, Tetsu. I think there’s a town coming up.”

“Oh, really?” Kuroo asked, still a little bit out of breath from Tsukishima’s attack. “Name?”

“Dunno, I just see lights. There’s probably a hotel or something.”

“Big or small?”

“Small, I think. Probably a fishing town or something.”

“Mmm. How long are you staying out this time?”

“Maybe a month. I kind of just want to take it slow for a bit, y’know?”

“Don’t stay too long, I might actually start to miss you,” Kuroo said, accentuating his words with a hearty chuckle. Bokuto missed him already.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

“I’ll see you in a month, then.”

“See you in a month.”

The line clicked off, the steady hum of the dial tone filling the car as Bokuto turned off of the highway and into town. At his back lay the ocean, the sun dipping gently into the golden waves.

-

“I’d like a room, please. I’ll pay ahead for one month.” He slid his card over the counter, hoisting the duffel bag farther up his shoulder. The motel was cheap - though not quite cheap enough to be considered sleazy - but Bokuto was fine with it. All he needed was a place to stay. “You got any tourist attractions here? Anything to see?”

The clerk raised an eyebrow at him, as if it should have been obvious from the quiet, humdrum atmosphere of the village. “Nothing, sorry.”

“Perfect.”

Bokuto liked places like this the best, small towns that were out of the way. They had their own kind of beauty, their own sort of magic that he never tired of writing about. He figured that was how he had managed to keep it up this long - he didn’t write about the big, famous places like everyone else did. Instead, he tried his best to capture the beauty of those unknown wonders, through his camera and his words.

A key slid over the counter, along with his card, and he nodded a thank you to the clerk before heading off in the direction of his room.

-

The sky was gray and thick with clouds when Bokuto left the next morning, and he packed his camera carefully into the back of his car. He could smell a storm hanging in the air, that heavy, wet scent that clung to his clothes and his skin and weighed him down with invisible droplets of water. He figured if he was lucky, he would be able to get in a few shots of the sky against the ocean before the downpour started.

He pulled into a parking lot on a flat cliff, mostly empty save for an old white car next to the sole shop in the area - an art gallery, judging from Bokuto’s short glimpse of the inside. The cliff overlooked the ocean, the railing shielding Bokuto from the drop into the angry waves. He leaned on the cold metal as he adjusted his camera, snapping a few test shots of the clouds before actually angling for a better picture.

He stared through the eyehole of the camera, first up at the clouds and then down at the water. Through the glass, he could see some poor soul in a boat, making his way to shore before the sea got much choppier. He focused the camera a little better, trying to capture the detail in the waves.

_Click._

"Do you get a kick out of taking pictures of strangers?"

Bokuto whirled around, blinking to refocus his eyes after the camera had strained them. A man stood in front of him, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a set of keys in the other. There was another car in the parking lot now, a bright red sedan that Bokuto assumed belonged to the stranger.

“What? No- I was-” Bokuto fumbled for an answer, mouth flapping open and shut. He could feel an embarrassed flush rising on his face, and he tried - to no avail - to fight it down.

“Relax, relax. You new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“No, no, I’m not from around here. Just visiting.”

“And,” the stranger said, motioning to the camera with a thin smirk on his face, “taking pictures of strangers, right?”

Bokuto grew to an even deeper shade of red. “That’s not-”

“Aki, are you scaring away my customers?”

Bokuto turned towards the sound of the newcomer’s voice, seeing a tall, thin man standing on the steps in front of the shop. He had an apron tied around his waist, and the wind buffeted his dark curls. His eyes were half-lidded and his long eyelashes drooped heavily, giving him a bored, apathetic expression. Despite that, he seemed to glow with a kind of carefully calculated life, some sort of perfection that couldn’t possibly be real.

If Bokuto ever had one of those stereotypical moments of jaw-dropping astonishment, this would be it.

“Keiji!” Aki, or whatever his name was, bounded away from Bokuto and towards the shop. He held up the cup of coffee. “Brought you something! You were complaining about the rain making you tired, so I figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” came the reply, but Bokuto only heard a muffled, windblown noise. He was still staring in shock at the man who had stepped out of the building, heart pounding and blood racing. In the back of his head, he could hear Kuroo mutter a teasing _Go get ‘im, Kou!_

He steeled himself before stepping forward. “I’m Bokuto!” he said, extending the hand that wasn’t holding the camera. Keiji looked startled, eyes widening just the smallest bit before he reached up tentatively to return the handshake. His hands were thin, fingers long and stained with paint.

“Akaashi,” he muttered. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto repeated dumbly, deciding he liked the way the name rolled off of his tongue.

“And I’m Konoha!” the other man said, seemingly in much better spirits than when he had first spoken to Bokuto. “Akinori, or Aki. You can call me whatever you want, though.” He turned to Akaashi and jerked his head to the side. “This guy’s new here, y’know. Says he isn’t from around here.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep! Well, I have to go, duty calls. Hope you like the coffee, though!” He waved, heading back to his car with a light spring in his step. Bokuto decided he liked Konoha then, despite his teasing words when they had first met. As he drove off, Bokuto realized Akaashi was still standing beside him, holding the cup of coffee in one hand.

“It’ll rain soon,” he muttered, staring up at the sky. No sooner had he spoken than the first of the raindrops fell on the ground between the two of them, turning from a trickle to heavy showers in a matter of seconds. “Knew it.”

Akaashi motioned for Bokuto to follow him into the store, but Bokuto stepped back. His face was less flushed now, but something about Akaashi intimidated him, he had an ethereal quality that made Bokuto feel inferior, or incompetent, or something along those lines.

“I should be going,” he said, trying his best to shield his camera from the pouring rain. “I need to, ah, do some things.”

Akaashi looked thoroughly unconvinced, but he waved goodbye to Bokuto anyway before stepping back into the shelter of his shop.

-

It wasn’t until later that night, as Bokuto sat typing next to the window of his room, that the thought cemented itself.

_ I have to see him again. _


	2. the weight of a single photograph

_ April _

_ - _

The sun was out the next day, and Konoha was there with his cup of coffee when Bokuto returned to Akaashi’s shop. He pulled out his camera and snapped a picture of Konoha next to his car, just to be spiteful, before waving a cheerful good morning.

“You’re back, huh? Am I gonna be seeing more of you around here?”

Bokuto grinned, pulling the camera down from his face and padding over. “Until I find a better spot to take pictures from, yeah.”

Konoha laughed, holding the coffee up to his lips before remembering it wasn’t his and pulling away. “That’s what I figured. You traveling types are always drawn here, dunno why though.” He leaned back against the trunk of the car, resting on his elbows and crossing his ankles in front of him. “I’m not complaining, though. It’s good for Keiji’s business.”

A bell rang, somewhere off to the side.

“Why is it that whenever I come out, you’re always talking about me?”

Bokuto and Konoha looked up to see Akaashi stepping out of the store, pulling his apron off with deft fingers. Bokuto resisted the urge to snap a picture (though if Konoha hadn’t been there to tease him, he might have). Konoha stood up, beaming as he handed over the still-steaming coffee. “Because you’re just so interesting, of course!”

“Hmm.” Akaashi smiled, the slightest twitch of his lips, before turning his hooded gaze onto Bokuto. “You’re back, I didn’t think you would be.”

“You doubt me?”

“I don’t know you well enough to do anything else.”

“Well, how about you get to know me then?”

There was silence, crushing and awkward, and for a split second Bokuto considered getting in his car, driving away, and never looking Akaashi in the face again.

“This is-” Konoha started, before Akaashi cut him off.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

_ Score. _

Konoha side-eyed Bokuto.  _ Flirting doesn't suit you,  _ he seemed to say, and Bokuto wondered for a second if he hadn't tried that same line on Akaashi before. He wouldn't doubt it, anyway.

There was an awkward cough, dry and hacking, and Konoha waved a stiff goodbye to Akaashi and Bokuto before getting back in his car. Bokuto watched him drive away, keeping his eyes on the vehicle until it turned the corner and disappeared out of his line of sight.

-

“You’re new,” Akaashi said matter-of-factly, once they made it inside the shop. He busied himself behind a dusty green counter, setting down his coffee on the dull wood and pulling out a stool hidden somewhere beneath. “We don’t really get new people.”

“Good thing I turned up then, huh?”

“I guess so.”

He disappeared into a back room without a word, leaving Bokuto alone to look around his little shop. It was cozy, painted in soft yellows and creams, and vibrant artwork hung from every wallspace he could see. He took a seat in an old-looking wooden chair by the door, listening to the muffled sounds of Akaashi in the other room.  _ He’s quiet, _ Bokuto thought. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. Surprising as it was, he actually did like quiet every once in a while.

“You want tea or something?” Akaashi asked, poking his head out of the doorway to stare at Bokuto with that hooded gaze. “It’s pretty cold today.”

Bokuto beamed. “Sure!” Then, realizing he should take more care not to scare off Akaashi, he lowered his voice and continued, “What kinds do you have?”

“Come up and look.”

Bokuto looked around for a set of stairs, but saw nothing but paintings and curtains. “Up?”

Akaashi stepped into the main room, gesturing for Bokuto to follow him. “Yeah. Up.” He came closer and reached out, hand impossibly close to Bokuto’s cheek, to flip the sign on the door. Bokuto’s eyes followed the way the sunlight dappled his collarbone, patching bright gold over his curly hair. They weren’t even that close, but Bokuto could feel his breath coming in shallow gasps, tinged with subtle hints of Akaashi’s cologne.

Whatever god was out there, they sure were merciless, Bokuto thought.

-

Up, in fact, turned out to be a small apartment just above the art shop. It was a lot less cluttered than Bokuto had expected, given the state of the gallery downstairs. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not sure if he should take off his shoes or not, but Akaashi beckoned him inside and he settled for leaving them next on the mat behind the door.

“It’s not much, but make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

With Akaashi busying himself in the kitchen, Bokuto stepped further into the living room to look around. It was sparsely furnished, unlike the first floor, with only a couch and a small coffee table. On the table were a couple framed pictures, one of the ocean and one of a younger-looking Konoha with his arm slung around Akaashi’s shoulders. Bokuto smiled, studying the soft smile on Akaashi’s face.

“Black tea?” Akaashi called from the kitchen.

“Sounds fine to me,” Bokuto replied, and Akaashi came out a minute later with two steaming mugs of tea. Bokuto accepted his happily, taking a seat on the couch when Akaashi motioned him towards it.

“So, Bokuto,” Akaashi started, once Bokuto was comfortable. “What do you do, then?” His words were flat but his eyes held a little glimmer of interest, eyebrows slightly raised and hooded gaze trained on Bokuto. Bokuto felt a little cornered by that gaze, if he was honest with himself.

“Everything, kinda. I just travel around and write about things. And I take pictures too. Sometimes.”  _ Good job sounding natural, Koutarou. Wonderful. _

“Hmm.” Akaashi sat on the far end of the couch, giving space to or avoiding him, Bokuto wasn't sure. His eyes rested on a point just to the left of Bokuto’s nose, never once locking gazes, just staring intently. Bokuto felt that wave of intimidation again, the need to wring his hands or run like a cornered animal or maybe just kiss the other- 

But then Akaashi was up, moving away, busying himself in the kitchen and the moment was broken.

“Do-” Bokuto started, but broke off to clear his dry throat, “Do you work here alone?”

Akaashi looked up at him from his place by the sink, nodding twice before turning his gaze back downwards. “I own it. Isn’t too hard to keep it up, I get just enough business to cover myself.”

Bokuto nodded. The air was tense again, heavy and stiff with awkward silence, but the look on Akaashi’s face gave Bokuto the idea that he was the only one to feel it. On a whim, he raised his camera to snap a picture of Akaashi. Upon developing it later, he would find that Akaashi was staring straight at the camera, his eyes wide with surprise, a bubble of soap clinging to his collarbone, and that would eventually become Bokuto’s favorite picture of the other. He knew none of that now, though, and simply shrugged his shoulders when Akaashi asked his intentions behind taking the picture.

-

He returned to his room that night in a daze, head spinning with thoughts of dusty art galleries and black tea and sweet cologne. He hammered out a veritable essay on the shop, posted it along with a picture he had taken of the exterior, and closed his laptop. Lying back on his rented bed (just this side of too hard), he thought of the way his name had sounded in Akaashi’s mouth.

One month, only one month paid ahead. He didn’t have the money to stay longer, sooner or later he’d have to return to Kei and Tetsurou, to that shared apartment in the bustling city.

For the first time in his life, he felt himself not wanting to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not even going to pretend i have an excuse for being inactive for a year,,

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are an author's lifeblood, don't forget that! and of course, my tumblr can be found [here](http://akaashx.tumblr.com).
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
